Sense of Home
by NoxWillow
Summary: As war threatens Rohan, Éomer and Kiernan must do their part to protect the land and people they love most. But changing times lead to a changing land, and neither knows how they fit in anymore. Discovering that can be a powerful thing, especially if you let the changes better you. It's tempting to let it tear you apart first though. Éomer/OC Rating may change


**Welp, my muse is in Middle Earth… enjoy the OC shenanigans **

**Disclaimer: Tolkien is king, he owns it all**

**Chapter One: Break Me**

The people of Aldburg knew the cold better than anyone else. Settled near the White Mountains in southern Rohan, the winds constantly whipped their furies across the settlement, this winter being no exception. Its residents had many choice words for the cold. They ranged from polite disdain one spoke in good company to words of passionate hate that would make a foul-mouthed soldier blush.

Kiernan tugged her shawl closer to her shoulders, muttering a rather crude word for the cold. She was not dressed appropriately for this weather but had had to leave on short notice. Shielding her face with a hand against the bite of the wind, she followed the worn path to the main hall sat further back in the village. The building was great in its appearance, with intricate carvings of horses decorating the roof. As a child, she had always looked at them in awe. How brave they seemed to be always charging forward, no matter the weather. That awe was lost on her now. She wouldn't be out in this hell if it wasn't necessary.

Finally at the doors, she shoved one open with great effort. The wind threatened to rip it out from her hands if not for the help of a passerby. Together they manhandled the door closed and with a quick thanks, Kiernan turned her attention to the back of the hall. It was late, so the only occupants were a few housekeepers tending to the hall and the one Kiernan had come to see. He was always here at this time, sat in his chair with papers strewn around him in a cluttered fashion. Utterly predictable. She had heard rumours he disliked being cooped up in his chambers doing paperwork. Why he had to make the town hall his personal office was beyond her.

Walking up to the grand table, she stood before it, hands glued to her side as she squared her shoulders. "Éomer." She spoke his name clearly. The man didn't bother to look up. He kept his head bent as he scribbled across the paper in what could only resemble chicken scratch. There was simply no other word for it. Her patience growing thin, she called his name again.

This time he looked up, his eyes meeting hers with no sense of affection. "Yes?"

Kiernan resisted the urge to ball her hands into fists. "There's a problem in the South stables. Part of the roof has blown off and the horses are spooked. We simply do not have enough man power to handle the situation in a timely manner. We would require some men to help with the repairs." Simple and concise. It was always best to limit her time with Éomer. The sooner he gave her what she needed, she'd be gone.

Éomer sat back. His person seemed to overwhelm the chair he was sitting in. It looked like a chair meant for a child under his bulk. Taking his time to consider her request, his lips pursed. For a second she feared he would deny her. Did he not know she would only ask for his help if there were no other options? Her older brother Cadoc had sent her with urgent haste as he and Cadaron, the youngest of the three siblings, tried to repair the damage done.

Kiernan's family was responsible for the South stables, the third largest behind the North and West, although that was a generous claim for it. Before the East Stables had burned down six years ago, the South had been the smallest. Now it clung to the last of its prestige with weak fingers. Where once it had been considered the stable of choice for the reigning Marshal years ago, it had now become the dumping grounds for Aldburg. It housed everything unwanted from unbreakable horses to injured animals. It sometimes even sheltered visitors when there weren't enough beds in the few inns that populated the town. As a way to compensate the lack of income, the family had turned half of the stable into a working barn, selling meat, eggs, and milk at the local markets. Where once the greatest horses of Aldburg had been kept, now lived chickens, pigs, and goats.

When the South stable had fallen into its current state was well before Kiernan's time. Her father had often spoke of its grandeur before his passing, his memories of the glory days quite fond and speaking of a prosperity she had never known. Perhaps once Kiernan had felt she and her two brothers could restore the stable back to its former greatness, either to preserve the memory of her parents or simply just to provide for themselves. Yet every time the siblings stitched together a business plan, it fell through due to causes unseen. Today was no different, as this particular storm raged the city, taking a quarter of their roof with it. What a costly night it would be.

As she stood before Éomer, Kiernan wondered how expensive it would be to fix the roof. Supplies in the city were becoming more scarce as the trading routes from Gondor turned dangerous. She had heard tales from the Éored in taverns; drunken soldiers raging about orc attacks that had grown in both numbers and severity. It would be costly to fund both the material and labour required to fix their new problem, with or without orcs.

"I will send some men when I can," Éomer finally grunted after a long pause.

Kiernan clenched her jaw. "There isn't much time to wait around for you to 'send some men when you can'." Her tone was biting as she threw his words back at him. There weren't a lot of people in Aldburg who could get away with speaking to the Marshal as she did. She didn't care though, and neither did he. Their paths had crossed for years, tumultuous and full of anger most every time. The only reason he had ever shown Kiernan kindness was around his sister Éowyn. In childhood, Kiernan had developed a true friendship with her. Kiernan was dearly remised when Éowyn had left for Edoras some years ago. Now there was no buffer between Kiernan and Éomer. So here she was, trying her best not to shout at the man while he did his best not to brush her off too quickly. Nothing had changed.

Éomer dropped the quill in his hand and ran it through his hair. It had been neatly half plaited before, as was custom in Rohan, yet now it was a mess of tangles. Paperwork clearly stressed the man out. "There aren't any men to send right now," he grunted. "The hall is nearly empty. Everyone has gone home. Shall I run around the streets and pull tired men from their beds, just to thatch a roof together for your satisfaction?"

There was no help to be found here, Kiernan now knew. "Sorry for wasting your time," she spoke coldly. "We will deal with it ourselves, as we always do." Why did it feel as if Aldburg was constantly turning its back on them? How disappointed it always left her.

If Éomer had anything else to say, he kept his lips closed. The air buzzed with the same intensity that always vibrated between them. It reeked of tension and disdain. Pulling her shawl back tightly around her shoulders, Kiernan turned on her heel and headed for the door. She didn't wait for anyone to help her with it and instead channeled her anger into strength. The door slammed shut with a satisfying thud as she pushed it shut, ready to braced the cold once again.

The walk back to the stables felt longer than it had coming here. She had been sent to retrieve help and instead came back empty handed. As she approached the stable, she could make out Cadoc trying to steady himself on the roof. He had an armful of thatch secured to his side while his other hand gripped the beam that held the rood together. Cadaron appeared to be throwing rope up to his brother, though Cadoc couldn't catch it without losing either his grip or the thatching under his arm.

Kiernan sped up her steps. She knew what needed to be done and was soon scrambling up the rickety ladder Cadoc had used. Finding her place next to him, Kiernan ignored the chill quickly leeching heat from her fingers.

"What are you doing?" Cadoc asked over the howl of the storm. Snow plowed from every direction to whip their hair around.

"I couldn't get help. What else am I supposed to do?" Her voice seemed lost in the wind but Cadoc nodded. He was never one to tell her what she could and couldn't do. It was the thing she appreciated most about him.

"Ready?" Cadaron called from below. He hadn't heard their exchange but wasted no time. He had the rope wound up and ready to throw it to Kiernan. It took them three tries before she caught it, her fingers struggling to grab hold of it in the weather. Finally secure in her hand, she and Cadoc went to work weaving the roof back together. It was slow and tedious, made difficult by both the wind and darkness of the night. They only had the light coming from within the stable to work off of and as they further thatched the hole, visibility decreased.

Kiernan paused for a second. Her fingers had surpassed numb and were becoming painful. They seemed to lose their will to do as she wanted. Shoving them under her armpits, she exhaled slowly.

"Kiers," Cadoc called to bring her attention back to him. He held out another piece of rope to her, his hands visibly shaking in the cold. They were nearly done—only one more section to go. All she had to do was push through the pain. Outstretching her hand, she gripped the rope and began to weave the last of the thatching, effectively shutting them in the dark. Anticipating this, Cadaron was quick to bring them another source of light. He ran out from the stable, a torch held high in his hand. The flame wavered violently in the wind, threatening their visibility but it was enough to get the job done.

With the last of the roof stitched together, Kiernan let out a tense breath. Her lips felt chapped and her hands were long past cooperating. Cadoc was first to edge off the roof, practically sliding down the ladder once his foot found the first rung. Inching towards the ladder herself, Kiernan placed her foot out yet slipped as her hands found no purchase to grip onto.

"Slowly," Cadoc urged from beneath her.

Another foot near the edge. How had Cadoc made it look so easy? Why couldn't she find anything to hold onto? Every time she neared the ladder, she began to slide forward too much. There wasn't much else to do then. Dangling her left leg over the edge, Kiernan danced her foot around to try and find the first rung of the ladder. Instead, she effectively kicked it down, the wood smacking the snow beneath with a hefty thump. Cursing, she instinctively leaned over to see where it had fallen, shifting her balance just enough for the roof to disappear beneath her. The ground was suddenly upon her then, or her upon it. She couldn't quite make out what had happened. There was too much pain in her leg to make sense of things.

Her brothers were upon her, varying degrees of concern of their faces as they watched her fall. Looping their arms around her waist, they carried her into the warmth of the barn to access the damage. If she cried out, she did not remember. The only thing she could hear was the blood pumping in her ears as she was set down on a pile of hay. Her leg felt hot, an intense shock reverberating from her ankle upwards.

Kiernan tried to catch her breath as she gripped the straw beneath her. Cadoc was already pulling her boot off gingerly, his hands slowly and steady as he revealed the swollen lump of her foot. "Get the healer," he said to his brother. The youngest nodded and took off, leaving the two behind. "What have you done?" Cadoc muttered as he disregarded her shoe to the floor.

Kiernan propped herself on her elbows, her eyes trying to make sense of her ankle in the low light of the barn. The look of it didn't seem to match the fire scorching her foot. "It's fine, right? It will all be fine?" she was breathless, but she needed to hear some reassurance from her brother.

Leaning back on his knees, Cadoc clucked his tongue. "I'm afraid this limb won't make it. We're going to have to amputate from the neck down just to be safe." There was the smallest crack of a smile on his lips. It eased her tension just a bit.

"If these are the kinds of comments I'm subjected to, take my head with everything else."

Cadoc's smiled widened to show off his straight teeth. He was as handsome as any Rohirrim; the kind of man any mother would want their daughter to bring home. Tall, blonde haired, yet on the more slender side. His smile would light up any room if he offered it, yet those moments were few and far in between. Cadoc was quite reserved—he saved his best jokes only for those closest to him. One had to earn his respect. It was never given freely. "You'll live, dear sister of mine. I've seen worse."

Indeed so had she, many years ago, when the lands of Aldburg had been threatened and a large sum of soldiers had been sent out to take care of it. The healer had been quickly overwhelmed with the returned injured men. As was custom, the South stables had been the place of choice for overflow patients. Kiernan had been young then, but she remembered the smell of blood and gore. She remembered washing the floor of it, and how easily it stained everything it touched.

Her brother fussed around the stable while they waited for the healer and Cadaron. It took a good long while before they showed up, each covered in snow and looking windswept. It was not the regular healer Cadaron had brought but rather his son, a younger and more deft version of his father. Déorthain had a bag in his hand, his dark hair pulled back from his face, colouring indicative of his mother's Gondorian heritage.

"You've made a right mess, haven't you, to get me out of bed at this hour," he chided, wasting no time with pleasantries. He plunked himself down in front of Kiernan, bag by his side. "May I?" He indicated her dress which had fallen down to cover part of her foot. She hoped the flush on her cheeks could be contributed only to the cold. She didn't often have men kneeling in front of her, asking permission to touch her skin. She finally nodded, realizing he was waiting for her approval. "Alright, let's see."

Déorthain was only a few years older than her in his mid-twenties. His dark hair brought a sense of exoticism rarely seen in these parts of Rohan. It was no wonder every woman fawned over his dark lashes and easy manner. Kiernan knew of more than one girl who had _injured_ herself, the healer's son not far behind so he could tend to them behind closed doors. Kiernan felt largely out of depth when the girls gossiped amongst themselves, sharing details of the _treatments_ they had received from him. Kiernan had done a wonderful job of keeping any gossip or men at arms-length. It was relatively easy when all the men seemed blind of her anyways.

Gritting her teeth, Kiernan tried to keep any show of pain to a minimum as Déorthain examined her ankle. "Does this hurt?" he asked as he twisted the limb ever so slightly to the right.

Indeed it did hurt, very much so—enough that her nails dug into the palms of her hand. "Yes," she finally squeaked.

"And this way?" He moved the limb to the left. The same white hot pain shot up her leg. She nodded, soley to keep from swearing rudely in polite company. Déorthain pursed his lips and turned to his bag. With one hand still holding her ankle steady, he rummaged through the bag with the other to find a thick white bandage. Wrapping the fabric around her ankle, he was careful not to antagonize the swollen limb. "It seems you have either broken or badly sprained your ankle." His words were calm and sure, his fingers never flinching as he secured the bandage. "These injuries are common enough. They require bedrest, compression, and icing to reduce swelling. You should elevate your foot so the blood doesn't pool and make the swelling worse." He set her bandaged foot down, satisfied with his work.

"And the recovery time?" Kiernan asked. It simply wouldn't do to lose her as working hands in the stable. It was only her and her two brothers keeping the business afloat. Without her labour, the stable would surely fall apart.

Tying his bag closed, Déorthain gave her a sympathetic look. "Eight to ten weeks I would say, by the looks of it. And before you decide that time frame doesn't work for you, I'd like to remind you that without proper rest, you could risk doing further damage."

Eight to ten weeks? That was well into late winter. The stable would crumble a week without her, much less survive two months. Cadoc could clearly see the distress passing on her face. Without missing a beat, he extended an arm to Déorthain to help him to his feet. "We thank you for your service, Healer. Coming in this weather and all."

Déorthain took the hint. "Of course. I'll let you tend to your sister then. Cadaron," he gave the young man a quick nod and excused himself.

The three alone, Cadoc bent down to his knees and ran a hand along his tired face. Kiernan was nearly in tears, though she couldn't pin point the source of them. Was it from the pain or frustration? "We'll be fine," Cadaron said from his spot beside Kiernan. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest. He looked a spitting image of their late father. Tall, sandy hair, broad shouldered, and usually sporting an easy demeanor. There was little that upset Cadaron. Though there was no smile on his lips tonight. "We always find a way."

Cadoc didn't look at his brother. He couldn't even look at Kiernan. Around them the animals stirred, wired from both the commotions of the evening and the storm that raged on outside. If Cadoc had sported humour before the visit of the healer, it was a lost sentiment now. "Shall you settle the animals?" Cadaron asked his brother, feeling the tension leeching off of him. "I'll take Kiernan home."

Stretching to his full height, Cadoc exhaled a deep breath. "Alright."

Cadaron nodded and crouched by his sister. He motioned to his back and together, they managed to get her positioned so he could carry her piggy-back style. The movement jolted her ankle, but Kiernan didn't dare cry out. She could see the tense line of Cadoc's shoulders as he faced one of the mares, his arm outstretched to calm her down. He seemed to understand what losing Kiernan meant as well. What it meant for their livelihood.

"Let's go," Cadaron said as he stood to his full height. Kiernan clasped her hands tightly around his neck, not wanting to make contact with the floor again. She was feeling largely betrayed by the ground right now. Moving to the door, Cadaron stopped as if he had something else to say to his brother before thinking better of it. Instead he shouldered the barn door open to expose himself and Kiernan to the night that stole every bit of heat from their skin.

The walk home was void of conversation, Kiernan too exhausted and in pain to speak while Cadaron focused on his footing. By the time they reached home, neither had much to say in way of goodnight. "We'll figure it out," was all Cadaron offered her as he left Kiernan on her bed. "We always do. Sleep well, sister." He left without a response as the door shut behind him.

Sitting on her bed with her leg propped up, Kiernan wondered how much Cadaron believed those words. It sounded much like a lie a parent would tell their child to ease a worried mind. There was much labour to be done in the stable. The stalls certainly didn't clean themselves and the animals couldn't take care of their own. Plus the business side of the stable—attending markets, selling their goods and keeping track of expenses, all fell to Kiernan. Mobility was a huge asset, one she hadn't realized she took for granted until tonight.

Maybe Cadaron's words weren't a false nicety said to ease her mind but rather a hard truth. They simply had to figure it out. There was no other way around it. Leaning back into her mattress slowly, Kiernan closed her eyes. Her mind whirled for what felt like hours as she tried to imagine how they could make up for her loss of labour. The night was nearly over before she finally turned over ready for sleep. The only thing distracting her from her dreams was the sound of the wind outside, as violent and unforgiving as ever.

**xxXXxx**

**The winter weather these days has me in a mood for a darker Éomer fic. What do you think? **

**Thoughts/comments/constructive criticism all appreciated!**

**Cheers!**


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